


"Little Gifts"

by farad



Category: The Magnificent Seven (TV)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-01
Updated: 2015-06-01
Packaged: 2018-04-02 08:45:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 14,456
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4053838
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/farad/pseuds/farad
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A sort-of sequel to the Christmas Stocking story from this past year (2014) in which Chris finds something else to ponder at Christmas time.</p>
            </blockquote>





	"Little Gifts"

**Author's Note:**

> For the Daybook Prompt: Any, any, the strangest present he'd ever gotten. Special thanks to the awesome JoJo for her timely and very helpful work on this monster, subtitled, “the Great Meandering”. All mistakes my very own.
> 
> Sequel to “. . .If Only In My Dreams . . .” (http://archiveofourown.org/works/3084101) though they are both stand-alones. Thanks to Thaccian for the Daniel Potter ideas.

_“Verily, great grace may go with a little gift; and precious are all things that come from a friend.”_ \- Theocritus 

Chris frowned at the small wrapped bundle. It was sitting on top of his saddle, here in the livery, carefully placed so that it wouldn't fall off. He glanced around, but there was no one in the livery, not even Tiny or Yosemite. It was late afternoon on Christmas Eve, and well past time for him to take his bottle of whiskey and head off to the cabin to drink himself clear of all memories of this damned holiday. 

And it had started to snow. He'd been waiting for Buck and Vin to get back, worried that they'd run into trouble delivering and serving the warrants for the Judge. Sheriff Barts had wired the Judge yesterday afternoon that the warrants had been served and all the right folk arrested, thanks to the help from his couriers, so Chris knew they were on their way back. But so far, they hadn't made it in yet. 

And he knew that both of them had been aware of the weather; even if Buck had made himself known to the women of the town, Vin would have rousted him out of bed and gotten him on the road early enough to stay ahead of the snow. 

Assuming that they could; it had probably started a lot earlier in the mountains. 

So here he stood, already unsure about going, with a strange, small gift in his hand, wrapped in brown paper but sporting a red ribbon tied neatly in a small bow. No calling card attached, no writing on the paper to let him know from whom it had come. 

He sighed, dropping the little package into his duster's pocket, and went on saddling his horse. He'd ride out along the road and see if he could spot his men, then head on to his cabin and his own personal 'celebration'. He had his own plan for the next few days, one that involved the only way he knew now how to deal with it. It was a different kind of 'spirit' that called to him this time of year, when the memories of Sarah and Adam were sharpest in his mind, when he missed them and the life they had had together. He had stayed in town as long as he could, tried to ignore and avoid the building excitement of the townsfolk as today drew nearer. 

He was leading his horse toward the door of the livery when Nathan came in. He had his saddle bags over his shoulder and his medical bag in one hand. But in the other, he carried a small present similarly wrapped. “You heading out to look for Buck and Vin?” he asked as he approached. 

“On my way to the cabin,” he said with a nod. He looked to the present in Nathan's hand. “Where'd you get that?”

Nathan glanced down, frowning. “It was sitting on my doorstep when I opened the door. No name on it though.”

Chris nodded, pulling his own out of his pocket. His was somewhat smaller than Nathan's so they weren't the same thing. “You gonna open it?”

“Soon as I get my horse saddled up and this gear stowed. Heading out to the village for Christmas.”

Chris blinked, recalling Nathan's plan. “Good day to propose,” he said softly. “I asked Sarahh on Christmas Eve.” He felt the pull of the whiskey bottle that was in his own saddle bag. 

Nathan swallowed. “Figure it'll be harder for her to say no,” he said awkwardly. 

Chris smiled. “Yeah, that was my thinking, too. It worked. You want help?”

Nathan shrugged but it was clear he was relieved that the topic of conversation had changed. “You want me to ride with you a while? It's a little out of the way but I'm worried myself. Ain't like Vin to dally, especially in this weather.”

Neither of them commented on Buck as they both knew how well Buck could dally, if left to his own devices. 

They were halfway through getting Nathan's horse ready when Josiah ambled into the livery. Like the two of them, he was carrying a small wrapped package, though it was longer and thicker than Chris'. 

“Thought the two of you might be here,” Josiah said. “Figured I'd ride out a ways and see if I could see Buck and Vin.”

“You get your sermon written?” Nathan asked as he put the bit between his horse's teeth.

“Finished it up just now – well, a few minutes ago,” Josiah said. “Got to wondering about our lost brothers.”

“You got any idea who gave you that?” Chris asked, tilting his head toward Josiah's gift. 

Josiah glanced at it then shrugged. “It was sitting just outside the door of the church,” he said. “Not sure it's even mine – could be for the altar.”

“Well, I got one, and so did Chris,” Nathan said. “No card on ours to let us know who to thank. Thought you might have an idea.”

Josiah looked at his package, turning it over in his large hands a few times. “No idea,” he said eventually. “Ribbon comes from Potter's store – or Watson's, as they're using the same ribbon. So everybody in town – and most of them out of town – are going to use the same ribbon.”

“Well, that narrowed it down,” Nathan said, flashing a grin at Chris. 

“Might help if we open them,” Josiah suggested. “Knowing what's inside could make it clear pretty quickly.”

“Make what clear?” a new voice called out, and they all turned to find Ezra entering the livery, wiping snow from the fur collar of his long wool coat.

“Lord, it must be cold,” Josiah said, his bushy eyebrows climbing high on his broad forehead. “Ezra's in a city coat.”

Ezra glared at him as he continued, “Might I assume that you three are off to look for Misters Tanner and Wilmington? Or have you decided to hold your holiday festivities in these quiet though rather dank confines?”

“You coming along?” Chris asked, ignoring the questions as he usually did and cutting to the heart of the matter. “Or you taking advantage of the snow to disappear?”

Ezra cut his eyes to Chris and his tone was scathing. “I have no reasons to disappear,” he said. “I thought it might be of some concern that our two compatriots had not yet returned.” 

“And in the spirit of the season, you came to look for them? That's right charitable of you, Ezra. You feeling okay?” Nathan came toward them from the tack room, carrying Josiah's saddle and gear. “I got my bag right here, as it happens - “

“I assure you, I am quite fine – though this particular response to my offer of assistance is trying my nerves. As you seem to have it well in hand, I shall take my offers of good company elsewhere.” He turned on his heel, the panels of his coat swirling around his legs; the satin lining glimmered in the lantern light as he took off his leather gloves and stuck them into one of the coat's pockets. 

“Let's get you mounted up, too,” Chris called out. “The more of us there are, the quicker we'll spot them.”

Ezra frowned, but strolled to the tack room, collecting his equipment. 

“And the more likely they will ride into the stable while we're filling it up,” Josiah said. “Seems like an appropriate irony for this day.”

“Seems like,” Nathan agreed, watching as Josiah cinched his saddle. 

“So what were you discussing when I arrived?” Ezra asked, returning. “I distinctly heard the phrase “make it clear”.

Chris saw the glance Josiah and Nathan shared and he wondered if perhaps Ezra were the mysterious gift giver. If so, there was only one way to find out. He turned to look directly at Ezra as he reached into his pocket and drew out his wrapped bundle. “We seem to have a secret gift-giver running around. No identification on the gifts, and they're left in plain sight. You got any ideas?”

Ezra frowned, looking at the package in Chris' hand, then to the matching ones that Josiah and Nathan were holding out. He reached into another pocket of his own coat and pulled out a similar gift. “It would seem that I am not as special as I thought,” he murmured.

“Or you're as special as the rest of us,” Nathan countered, grinning again. “Reckon someone's being nice to us for all the work we do throughout the year?”

“Could be,” Josiah said, walking past Chris toward the tack room. “Could still be one of us – Ezra, where did you find yours?”

Ezra looked at his package as he answered, “Strangely enough, it was with my coat when it was delivered from the laundry this morning. The young man who delivered it seemed as surprised as I when I asked him what it was doing there. He was quite adamant that it had been with the coat when he left the cleaner. His father knew nothing of it either. As neither of them are terribly proficient with English, I do not believe for a moment that they are attempting subterfuge.”

“Maybe you can get Josiah to talk to them in Chinese,” Chris suggested as Josiah returned with Ezra's tack. 

“As that worked so well in the past,” Ezra said, leading his horse from his stall. “I do believe that now, though, I understand what you were discussing when I arrived. Perhaps if we opened them, we would have a better idea of who our mysterious patron is.”

“Nobody stopping you,” Chris said as he walked back to his horse and grabbed its bridle, resuming the walk to the door of the livery. “I'm heading out, though.”

“Of course you are,” Ezra said with a sigh. “And of course we should come with you.”

“Well, he's right, more of us looking, the better,” Nathan said as he followed Chris toward the door. “And ain't that what you came for, to start with?” The temperature in the livery dropped as Chris pushed the big door open to lead his horse out. 

“Snow's coming harder,” Chris called back. “Might want to get a move on.” He didn't wait to see if Ezra did, knowing that he would. Ezra did like to bitch, but he had come here with a plan and he would see it through. That much, Chris did know. 

As he mounted, Nathan came out behind him and did likewise. “Only one we're missing is - “

He'd just about gotten the words out of his mouth when the sounds of an approaching horse just barely heralded a loud, “Hey, guys, where you going?”

Chris turned to see JD trotting toward them, his bowler hat covered in snow, his cheeks red and his dark eyes shining. He didn't have to ask to know where JD had been – but JD told him anyway, before he or Nathan even had the chance to answer the question. 

“I spent the afternoon with Casey, baking Christmas pies and cakes and cookies – you won't believe what they're having at Christmas dinner tomorrow! Don't eat anything from now until then or you won't have enough room to try it all! I can't wait to tell Buck – hey, where is he? In the livery?” He brought his horse to a stop at the livery door, far enough away to let Josiah pass. 

“We're on our way out to see if we can find them now,” Josiah said. “Merry Christmas, there, JD. Sounds like you're starting yours off the right way.”

“Trying my best, Preacher – Buck and Vin aren't back yet? Shouldn't they have been back hours ago?”

“Maybe not hours,” Ezra said, coming along behind Josiah who was mounting up. “And they may well have been delayed by the snow.” He carefully put one foot into a stirrup, then he reached back to separate the two sides of his long coat before hefting himself into his saddle. “We shall ride out and see if perhaps they have merely gotten lost in the snowfall.”

“Vin? Lost?” JD shook his head so quickly that snow fell around him, like his own personal storm. “More like Buck got them into some sort of trouble.”

“We'll be checking on that, as well,” Josiah said, and Chris shook his head. 

“You riding with us?” he asked, looking forward toward the road. The snow was gathering but it wasn't so deep yet that the horses would have trouble – or that he couldn't tell where the road was. But it didn't look like it would stay that way for long. 

“Yep,” JD said, falling in beside Ezra. 

They walked for a way in silence – or what passed for it with this group. Nathan and Josiah rode beside each other, their voices quiet, but Chris heard the periodic mention of Raine's name and the low tones of Nathan's happiness. He was glad for the man; Nathan and Raine were good together, and it was clear that they loved each other. He tried not to think about Sarahh, but it was hard, especially on the holidays. 

It was easier to distract himself when JD and Ezra started talking, neither one of them given to whispers. “In your coat pocket?” JD said, his voice carrying easily. 

“Have you any idea who might have left it?” Ezra asked. 

“Well sure! Casey did, of course! Who else would give me a sneaky present like that, leaving it in front of my room at the boarding house – though I suspect she had Mrs. Erdmann put it there. I'd be very surprised if she let Casey into the house, she's very proper about that.” 

Chris took a deep breath, watching the road in front of him as he waited for Ezra's next question. Josiah and Nathan seemed to be waiting as well, or they had momentarily run out of things to say to each other. 

“So if Casey devised a way to sneak yours to you, why did she also devise ways to sneak presents to the rest of us?”

For a time, there was silence, and Chris knew that if he looked back, he'd see JD's face scrunched with confusion as he tried to think it through. The kid was smart, but he was still young, too young in many ways. Eventually, JD found his way through. 

“Well, might have wanted to surprise you guys, too,” he said, but his tone was unsure, the statement more a question. 

“It would still seem that she would leave some sort of acknowledgment,” Ezra said. “Why would she want to hide the fact that she was giving us presents?”

JD blew out a breath, and he may have started to answer but Chris' attention was caught by something moving in the distance. Some things. 

The light was fading, dark coming in fast, so that all he could really see was large dark objects against the white of the snow. But it didn't take much to recognize horses, two of them, and then the riders on them. Only one of the riders was sitting at an odd angle, one that didn't speak of comfort. 

He knew that position, though, had seen it once or twice in the past few years, and as he got closer, he knew the horses. 

“Nathan!” he called, spurring his horse into a trot. “Vin's hurt!”

For the next hours, no one thought of the presents. Vin wasn't badly hurt, but it was a struggle to get him back to town through the snow. He didn't want to give in to the pain, but eventually, they convinced him to ride behind Josiah, which let him relax and lean forward a little. It also sheltered him from the snow which began to come down faster, now, as if pushing them to get back to town. 

When Nathan got Vin back to the clinic and opened up his shirt, deep purple bruising covered most of his lower back, and the outline of a long, wide board was clear. Chris winced when he saw it and Buck, who had been explaining what happened, casting himself as the white knight to this woman he had bedded to comfort her at Christmas, even shut up for about ten seconds. 

It was almost eight o'clock when they settled around a table at the saloon, Vin easing carefully into a seat and throwing back a shot of whiskey before any one else even lifted a glass. 

“I can still give you some laudanum,” Nathan said, frowning, but he didn't make a move to get up. They had all heard Vin's growled refusal to take that form of pain relief. 

“Be fine with this,” Vin said, holding out his glass toward Chris for a refill. “You ain't gotta stay in town on my account. Thought you was headed out to the village.”

Nathan glanced over his shoulder, toward the window. Through the light coming from various windows of the different buildings, they could see the snow still coming down, heavier now. “Ain't going nowhere in this weather,” he said with a sigh. “Probably a good thing you two got in when you did. I'd still be out there, in this, probably lost.” 

Vin flashed a grin and shook his head, again holding out his shot glass as he said, “You'd manage. But it probably is too late now. Thanks for seeing after me. Put your drinks on Buck's tab.”

“Wait – my tab?” Buck said. “Ain't my fault you decided to get between me and that board.” 

As they bantered, Chris frowned, worried still; Vin wasn't one to drink for the sake of it very often. But this did seem to be an extraordinary situation – and hell, hadn't he been planning to do the same thing tonight? He refilled the glass then picked up his own, thinking to get started on his own plans, but Josiah interrupted him and the haggling. 

“A toast, then,” he said, lifting his glass. “To the spirit of the season.”

“Hear, hear,” Buck seconded, touching his glass to Josiah's. “And to spending the night with the ones we care about.” He eyed Chris who chose to ignore him. But he did drink the whiskey.

“I see you have returned,” a different voice said, and Chris glanced over to see Inez approaching the table. She carried a pair of boots. A familiar pair of boots. 

And she was looking and speaking directly to Buck. 

Buck turned and grinned widely. “You miss me, darling? I couldn't be away from you on Christmas Eve!”

Inez rolled her eyes. “How could I miss you? The smell of you is in many of the rooms of my business. I found these under the bed upstairs this morning, when I was cleaning. I had to leave them on the back stoop to get the smell out.”

“Out back?” Buck said, taking the boots as she thrust them toward him. “Why, somebody could have stolen them! These are fine boots – a man would be proud to have them!”

“A man who can't smell,” JD said, grinning widely as he usually did when Buck was being chastised. 

“Or see,” Nathan added, shaking his head as he looked at the boots. 

“Or hear,” Josiah added. “They really do need new heels, Buck.”

“These boots are a treasure!” Buck said defensively, hugging the boots close. “It's a wonder that they're still here!”

“Everybody in town knows they're yours,” Vin said, shifting a little in his chair. “Least ways every woman and her husband.”

“That, Senor Vin,” Inez said with a nod, her hands on her hips, “is truth.”

“You're just jealous of these fine boots,” Buck said. He glanced down and grinned, the ends of his mustache twitching. “And I see why you're giving them to me.” He reached into one of them and pulled out a small, wrapped package with a red ribbon on it. “No need to be shy, Inez – I would never say no to a present from you.”

“That?” Inez said, leaning closer to look at it. “It is not from me. Someone must have left it in the boot.”

“Perhaps Miss Wells?” Ezra suggested, sliding his eyes to JD. “She seems most charitable yet shy about it this holiday season.”

Before JD could do more than glower at Ezra, Vin spoke up, his drawl stronger as the liquor took effect. At least, Chris thought, he was feeling less pain. “Can't be Casey, not if 'Nez left 'em on the stoop today. Casey's been out to Nettie's place all day, ain't she, JD? Cooking for tomorrow?”

JD's glower cleared and he grinned. “She has, Vin, you're right. They can't be from Casey.”

“They?” Buck asked, holding up the small package to his ear and shaking it. “Somebody else got one?”

“Seems like we all did,” Josiah said. Then he frowned, looking across the table to Vin. “Well, except Vin, but then, he hasn't been here to find his.”

“You don't have a pair of Mr. Tanner's boots on your back stoop, do you, Inez?” Ezra asked Inez. 

“Senor Vin hasn't left personal belongings behind because he doesn't have to run away in the middle of the night,” Inez said, tossing her head. 

“Or the early morning,” Nathan added. 

“Or lunchtime,” JD added. 

“If I were leaving a surprise gift for Vin,” Chris said, looking at Vin who was shaking his head, “I'd leave it on the back of his wagon. JD, you mind checking?”

“Ain't no need in that,” Vin started, but Ezra interrupted. 

“I can't imagine that all the rest of us received some token from an anonymous source and you were not included,” he said, catching up Vin's empty glass and holding it out toward Chris. 

Chris poured another drink for Vin as JD jumped from his chair and hurried toward the door – then scurried back to grab up his coat. 

“So what's in it?” Buck asked, turning his package over in his hands. The boots in his lap dropped to the floor with loud thuds, momentarily silencing the conversations and noise in the saloon, and Inez rolled her eyes. 

“Don't know,” Nathan answered as the other customers, realizing nothing was wrong, started to talk again. “Don't think they're all the same; they look to be different sizes.” He pulled at the sides of his big coat and drew out his own package, also putting it on the table. It was a little smaller than Buck's, but the ribbon was the same. Josiah drew his out, longer than Buck's, and when he turned to look expectantly at Chris, Chris fumbled with his coat until he also had his in hand. 

Ezra rose from the table and made his way to the coat rack where he had very carefully placed his coat – and which he had made certain he could view from his seat at the table. Chris had noticed him checking on it every few minutes, and it made him wonder how much the damned thing had cost. 

When Ezra returned to the table, his package was smaller than all the others except JD's, but not by much. As Ezra settled himself, JD ran back in from the cold, shaking off the snow again and hurrying through the growing crowd toward their table. He dropped a long flat package in front of Vin and took off his coat, draping it over the back of his chair before falling into it. He talked non-stop the whole time. 

“It was just inside the back of the wagon, far enough back not to get any snow on it – and the snow is coming down! It's going to be thick by morning if it keeps up at this rate! Hey! Vin's is the biggest one yet, bigger than all of ours.”

“Size isn't everything,” Inez said, eyeing the collection that was already on the table. “Many good things come in small packages. Just look at JD.”

Chris almost snorted his whiskey but it went unnoticed as Buck blew his all over the table. Well, almost unnoticed; across the table, Vin arched an eyebrow and smirked a little at Chris, but he didn't say anything. 

Not that it would have been heard over JD's crowing, Buck's sputters of objection, and the general laughter from Ezra, Josiah, and Nathan, even as they wiped spatters of whiskey off their faces. Inez stood between Buck and JD, her hands on JD's shoulders, as she smiled with amusement. Her dark eyes seemed to sparkle in the light of the oil lamps and Chris found that he was enjoying himself. 

Some part of him rebelled at the notion, and the memory of the whiskey in his saddle bags tugged at him, bringing with it the scent of fire and smoke. 

But for the first time in a long while, that pull wasn't as compelling as the warmth of this room, the sound of laughter, and the company of these men. 

He looked at his present on the table before him. Unlike Buck, who was, even while talking and holding his drink in one hand, still turning his own gift over and over in his free hand, as excited as a child, Chris wasn't compelled to guess at his gift. Though, to be honest, he was curious. 

Seven anonymously given presents, all wrapped similarly, but not the same size. 

“Go ahead, cowboy,” Vin said softly, his voice so low and rough that Chris suspected no one else had heard it. He looked up, shaking his head, but Vin was still smirking, challenging. He was sitting back in his chair but tilting to one side, and though he seemed relaxed, Chris could tell that the pain was building. Vin wouldn't be able to stay with them long.

And it was, after all, Christmas Eve. 

He took a breath and reached out, one fingertip catching on the ribbon and drawing the package back to him. The chatter at the table continued, but in his peripheral vision Chris saw Josiah and Ezra tracking the movement of the package as it slid along the table. 

The bow was a simple crossover, so all he had to do was pull one end of the ribbon and the tie easily came open. As did the heavy brown-colored paper wrapped around it. As it fell open, exposing the contents, everyone at the table fell silent and leaned forward, except for Vin who just squinted. 

Chris stared at the silver metal tin on the table and frowned. Then Buck started to laugh, followed by Ezra, and Josiah and Nathan grinned. Chris lifted the metal tin from the table and turned it over.

“That what I think it is?” Vin asked.

“A tin of those tiny fishes?” Inez asked, frowning, too. “Why would someone give you those?”

“Because he smells fishy?” Buck wheezed out through his laughter. 

Chris held up the tin, looking at it more closely. Sardines. 

“He is partial to those,” Vin offered, though he also looked confused. “Buck, what have you got?” 

Buck was slowly getting over his laughter, and Vin's question drew his attention back to his own gift. “Don't feel like sardines,” he said, pulling on the ribbon. Chris watched, thinking about the sardines and trying to reason out why anyone would give him a tin of them, though Vin was right; he did love sardines, but that wasn't common knowledge, as far as he knew. 

Buck's was also a metal tin, though this one was more rounded and larger than Chris'. And it had a silver cap at one end with holes in it, under which was a piece of white paper. Chris couldn't see the tin well enough to make out the words, not at first, but it didn't take JD or Inez long to read the label.

“It is someone who knows you well,” Inez said with a grin. “And the gift was left in the correct spot!”

JD burst into laughter as Buck, frowning, picked up the tin to read the label more clearly. “There must be some mistake,” he said, but it was hard to hear over JD's chuckles.

The front side of the tin was clear to the table now and soon the others were also laughing. Even Chris. 

“Why would anyone get me foot powder?” Buck asked, turning the tin around in his hands quickly, as if it would turn into something else. 

“Maybe they smelled your boots all day and thought you needed help?” JD suggested. 

“Maybe one of your many conquests is offering some well-intentioned advice?” Ezra chimed in. 

“Nice powder, though,” Josiah said, leaning forward to look at the tin. “Use it myself, when I can afford it.”

Chris thought about that and looked back at his own strange gift. If he recalled correctly, these were some of the best sardines, the brand that he usually chose, when he decided to buy them, and when they were available. Which wasn't often. 

“Well, now, what did you get, JD?” Buck asked loudly, turning his attention on JD. “Maybe someone's trying to tell you something, too – maybe it's a hat!”

JD turned to Buck but he was untying his ribbon. His package was small and flat and the paper was doubled around it so he had to do more to get his open. Buck leaned in as JD worked, trying to get the first sight of the small present, but JD turned, trying to keep his body between Buck and what he was doing. 

So it was Ezra, sitting to JD's left, who got the first look. He grinned, his gold tooth flashing in the dim light of the saloon, and said, “I wonder if, perhaps, our gift giver confused you and Mr. Wilmington. Or you and dear Vin, here.”

JD's broad face was scrunched into a frown so deep that it almost made him unrecognizable. He was careful as he took the gift from the wrapping, but it was a care that came from handling something so unfamiliar that he was in fear it would bite him. 

Chris felt his own face scrunch into a frown as he looked at the gift. 

“A bandana?” Nathan said, his voice carrying the confusion Chris felt. 

“Not a hat,” Buck shot back, grinning wide, “but someone telling you to get some smarter clothes!”

Vin moved an arm, as if to reach out and touch the bandana, but he stopped abruptly and winced. Instead, he said, “Not sure about that. It's a gold color, like your vests.”

Ezra sat back, turning his attention to Vin. “Why indeed it is. A very stylish choice, one that would complement JD's current attire. How very astute of you.” He was now frowning, confused for different reasons, and despite himself, Chris found himself catching a chuckle as it tried to escape.

Vin rolled his eyes and shook his head once, a slight movement. 

“But – I don't wear bandanas,” JD said. “I mean, I've thought about it, but it just didn't seem like it would go with my suits.”

“And we don't want to change that, now do we,” Buck said, slapping JD on the back. “Wouldn't want to look like we actually live out here and not back East, in the big city.”

“I think JD dresses very nice,” Inez said, once more putting her hands on JD's shoulders and glaring at Buck. “Others could take a lesson from him in how to look like a gentleman.”

“What a strange thing,” JD said, running the bandana trough his fingers. “It's nice, though – real soft.” He held it up and looked back to Inez, who also touched it. 

“Indeed,” she agreed, and it was her turn to frown. “This is not the bandana of a common cowboy,” she said. She lifted it and opened it up, looking at it. 

“No,” Ezra agreed, looking behind JD to where Inez held the cloth. “That is no mere cotton cloth.” He reached past JD to touch it, almost hitting JD in the ear. As he took the cloth between his thumb and forefinger, rubbing it slowly, he went on, “I believe it is a fine blend of linen and perhaps – silk?”

Chris stared at Ezra and peripherally, he was aware that Vin was staring too. Then, he glanced at Vin who glanced at him. Looking back to Ezra, he said, “Ezra, are you trying to pull a fast one here?”

Ezra turned to look at Chris, though his outstretched fingers continued to rub the fabric of the bandana. The button at the wrist of his red jacket banged JD's ear rhythmically with each move until JD finally jerked away. “Whatever do you mean?”

“Seems you know an awful lot about these gifts,” Vin answered, thinking the same thing Chris was. “Awful nice stuff here – though a little strange.”

Ezra let go of the cloth and sat straighter. “In case your memory has failed you, I, too, have a gift.”

“You do,” Chris agreed, stepping back in. “But it could be a decoy, a ploy. What's in your package, Ezra? Want to share it with the rest of us?”

Ezra arched one eyebrow. “I assure you, while I appreciate each of you in your own way, as each of you know, we do not make nearly enough money at this particular employment to invest in such delightful tokens of affection – no matter how well needed they are,” he added.

“Just open your package, Ezra,” Chris said, reaching for the whiskey bottle, as his own glass was empty. He wasn't surprised when Josiah also pushed his glass forward.

As he refilled them both – and then Buck's, Ezra pulled carefully at the ribbon on his own small package, carefully pushing the paper aside. It wasn't as small as JD's, but it, too, was wrapped around several times and he had to turn it over to finally get to the package. 

Ezra's eyebrows arched high in surprise as he took the cardboard box from the paper and turned it over, reading the label. 

Across from Ezra, Nathan said, “Soap? Someone gave you soap?”

“Well, now,” Buck said with a smile, “guess I ain't the only one who's in need of a better smell.”

“This soap is unscented,” Ezra said, setting it gently back in the paper from which it came. “In fact, it's one of the hardest soaps to get because it has no scent, contains a mixture of lanolin and several oils as well as cocoa butter. It's the perfect soap for the dry climate here.”

“Reckon it must cost a pretty penny,” Vin said, shifting in his chair. He looked at his glass, which was empty, and frowned. One hand moved as if trying to reach for it, but he caught his breath before his fingers even touched it. 

“Indeed,” Ezra agreed, distractedly. “I have rarely seen it on a shelf for sale in this town – usually, I order it through the Sears and Roebuck.” Without looking up, he deftly caught Vin's glass and pushed it toward the middle of the table, where Chris filled it. Then Ezra drew it back down toward Vin, setting it closer to where his hand was. “I wonder where our generous benefactor found such.”

“Senor Vin?” Inez prompted, her brow creasing as she studied him. It was evident that the pain was getting stronger. “What did you get?”

Vin glanced to Inez as he slowly lifted his glass and sipped. As he put it back down, he tried to reach for his own package, but it was clear that moving was causing him some pain. He sat back with a grimace and said, “Nathan, what did you get?”

Nathan started to say something but Chris saw him look at Vin's face and frown. Whatever Nathan was going to say, he thought better of and instead, caught up his own package. As he untied the bow, he did murmur softly, “Still go that laudanum,” but before Vin could answer he said more loudly, “Well, now, this is a fine thing.” He reached in and pulled out a pair of socks – but not just any socks; these were thick and distinctively woolen. 

“Those are nice,” Josiah agreed, and Inez made a low noise of appreciation. 

“Soft, too,” Nathan said, running the tips of his fingers over the weave. “Wool, but must be mixed with something, to make them this soft. Ain't scratchy, either.”

This time, Ezra reached past Vin, more careful not to bump Vin than he had been not to bump JD. Nathan frowned but didn't pull the socks away as Ezra's hand descended on them, his fingers rubbing at them the same way they had at JD's bandana. “Indeed,” he agreed after just a few seconds. “Lambs wool, I'd wager, mixed with something else softer.” 

“You study with a dressmaker?” Vin asked, trying to move farther away but having trouble. Chris noted that his back was getting stiffer. 

“As a matter of fact,” Ezra started, but then he blinked, seeming to realize what he was about to say. Instead of finishing that thought, he went on, “These are very fine, Nathan, very fine indeed.”

Josiah was already untying his bow, and Chris caught the look the older man threw towards Vin; he, too, had noticed that Vin was wearing down fast. For a while now, since that Pinkerton agent – that supposed Pinkerton agent – had accused Josiah of killing women and Vin made such an effort to prove his innocence, Josiah had looked out for Vin. He owed Vin a lot, and he honored that in his own way. 

“Well, now,” the older man said, but his voice was low and there was a sort of wonder in his tone. The paper opened to reveal a long wooden box, stained a deep cherry. It wasn't marked in any way, but even without opening it, Josiah seemed to know what it was. He sat with his hands on each side of it, staring at it. 

“What is it?” Nathan asked, putting his socks aside. 

Chris noticed that Ezra had managed to carefully reach out and draw Vin's present back toward Vin, slowly. Vin was watching, aware of what was going on, but he didn't say anything. Instead, the attention was on Josiah. 

“I believe,” Josiah said slowly, his words clear, “that it is a very thoughtful and considered gift.” He lifted one hand and gently touched the lid of the box. With caution, he lifted the top and peered inside. With a sigh, he closed it and sat back. “Yep,” he said. “It is a wonderful gift.”

“What is it?” JD asked, impatient. 

“Yeah,” Buck agreed, “you gotta tell us.”

Chris looked at the box and then at Josiah. “It's a quill writing pen,” he said. 

Josiah glanced to him and nodded. “It is,” he agreed. He reached out and opened the box, turning it to face the others. The quill was long and finely shaped, the feather dark and opalescent, seeming to shift colors from black to dark green to dark purple depending on how the light hit it. A bottle of ink sat in a pocket designed just for it at one end, as did a razor in a black handle, for trimming the point of the quill. 

“Well, now,” Ezra said, staring at it. 

“You gonna tell us how expensive that is, Ezra?” Buck asked, grinning. “Can you wear it with your fancy clothes?”

Ezra glared at Buck but before he could answer, Vin said, “You wanted one of those for a while now, 'Siah?”

Josiah looked across the table to Vin who was leaning forward, both hands on the table to support himself. “Reckon I have,” he said slowly. “I've looked at them often enough, I guess – though not always in the same place. Watson's, Potter's – even the undertakers. They sell them for funerals, and the Lord knows, I've done enough of those.”

Vin drew a breath and nodded, and Chris saw where he had been going: quill pens weren't things you saw just anywhere, not in this town. 

“Want me to open yours, Vin?”JD asked.

“JD,” Ezra chided, “please allow Mr. Tanner to make his own determinations about his gift.”

“It's all right, Ezra,” Vin said, letting the fingers of one hand rest on the thin gift. “Think I know what it is already.”

“You do?” JD and Buck asked at the same time. 

Vin looked at the package. He had started rocking slightly in his chair, a sign that the pain was getting worse. “Reckon it's a pair of long johns. I been thinking about getting a new pair for a while now.”

“Long johns?” Buck asked, frowning. “Why would you have to think about that? A man needs a new pair every couple of months – hell, I bet ol' Ez here gets one every week!”

Ezra turned to glare at Buck once more but before he could say anything, Nathan spoke up. “What are you talking about, Buck? You know Ezra don't wear anything as common as long johns. Reckon he has fancy underwear, made of some of them expensive fabrics - “

“And what is wrong with that?” Inez asked, her hands one more on her hips. “A man should be able to wear nice things if he wishes. And Senor Ezra has a fine collection of very nice things to wear, everywhere.” She moved to stand behind Ezra, who was smiling smugly now, his head turning from one side – Buck – to the other – Nathan. 

There was an explosion of laughter, led by JD and Josiah, both of whom were looking at Buck – who was looking horrified at the idea that Inez knew so much about Ezra's clothes. Chris hid his own grin behind his glass. It was always fun to watch Buck when he was caught unprepared, especially by a woman. And Inez wasn't just any woman, not in Buck's world. She was one of the few women who hadn't fallen for him. 

And as he sipped, the whiskey warming him, he realized once more that he was enjoying himself. That the call of the bottle in saddle bags was fading. Part of it was because he was worried about Vin; he didn't like to see any of his friends in pain. 

But the other part of it was because they were all here, safe, warm, and amusing. And there was the strange mystery. 

As the laughter died down and the various comments and taunts ended, he looked across at Vin. “You sure you ain't the one giving out all these gifts?” he said, though he knew even as he said it that it was unlikely that Vin would spend the kind of money that seemed to be on the table. 

Vin shook his head. “Not me. I'd have no idea about most of these things. Your sardines, sure, and Buck's foot powder – hell, that ain't no big secret. But a writing quill for Josiah? And a fancy soap for Ezra?” He shook his head and Chris knew he was telling the truth, though it was unlikely that Vin hadn't had an inkling; he was the most observant one of them, trained to be attentive to detail and also wary of anything that was out of the ordinary and might present a danger. 

“Then who?” JD asked, resting on his elbows on the table. “Who knows us all so well – and has this kind of money?”

Chris glanced around the saloon, which was now even more crowded, all the tables taken and many people standing at the bar. He looked back to Inez who still stood with her hands on Ezra's shoulders. She too, was looking around, mostly at her bartenders. As she looked back, she caught Chris' gaze and frowned. 

“Business seems pretty good,” he said casually. But Josiah looked up at her, and Vin tried to, but he couldn't manage the turn. 

She was a smart woman and she caught his meaning well enough. “No, senor, I did not buy these fine gifts – not that I wouldn't, but I most certainly would not have thought of most of them.” She grinned and turned to look at Buck. “One or two, of course, but not all of them.”

As Buck tried to defend himself again, and JD and Ezra and Nathan laughed, Vin straightened with effort and slowly pushed his chair back. “Hate to do it, but I gotta get to bed.” He tried to stand, didn't succeed, and tried again. But this time, Nathan was on his feet, reaching down to help Vin. 

“Guess I'd best get over to the church, see how much I need to do to clear the snow off the stairs,” Josiah said, gathering his present up and finishing off his drink before he, too, stood. “Want me to give you a hand there?” he asked Nathan. 

“I can manage,” Vin said, though it was pretty clear that he couldn't. 

“I got him,” Chris said, corking the bottle and stowing it in his duster pocket as he, too, got to his feet. “Reckon somebody oughta get some sleep in case there's a problem later, and it looks the rest of you have plans.”

“Problem?” Buck said. “It's Christmas Eve! What the hell kinda problem could there be in Christmas Eve?”

“Some woman's husband not appreciating the gift you're giving his wife?” Ezra suggested. He reached into the inner pocket of his vest and drew out a deck of cards. 

“You ain't funny, Ezra,” Buck shot back but he was grinning. 

JD was also on his feet, walking around the table toward Josiah. “Need help with the church, Preacher? Seems the least I can do.” 

“I will be glad to help as well,” Inez joined in, also moving toward the other end of the table, near Josiah. 

Chris eased around them, headed toward Vin and Nathan. “I got this, Nathan, if you want to head off with them.”

“Could still get you some - “ Nathan started, but he was cut off by Vin. 

“You go on and help them, I'm fine. Chris here will take care of me, at least see me to my bed in the boarding house.” Vin pushed himself as straight as he could, his breath catching and his face scrunching in pain. 

Chris stepped in quickly, catching Vin around the waist and nodding to Nathan who was frowning and shaking his head. But he didn't say anything else about it. Instead, Nathan picked up Vin's wrapped package off the table and pushed it into Vin's hand. 

“I'll be glad to take that,” Ezra said, also rising from the table, his cards still in his hand.

“You going out?” Buck asked. “Thought you were looking for a game.”

Ezra tucked his cards back into his vest pocket as he said, “I think I shall visit the church this fine night, see what sorts of people are still about this late on Christmas Eve.”

Everyone stopped, and Josiah slowly turned around and stared at Ezra. Even Inez was blinking in surprise. 

“You're going to church?” JD said, his voice higher than usual. 

“Saints preserve us,” Josiah muttered as Nathan said, “I'd best get my bag for sure.”

Ezra rolled his eyes and walked past them and through the crowd to his coat. As he put it on, carefully adjusting the collar and the fur cuffs, Vin said, “Don't get all excited, he ain't having no moment of redemption or whatever it is. He's gonna see if he can figure out who's being so nice to us.”

“Snooping,” Buck said, moving over to stand next to Inez. “Well, I'll keep your table warm, Ezra,” he called loudly over the hub bub of the crowd. “And help Inez start celebrating the holiday.”

“I will be attending the service,” Inez said, looking at Buck, but she didn't make a move to get her own coat. 

“Well, I'll walk you over when it's time,” Buck offered. “Keep you from sliding down in the snow.”

Vin took several steps forward, or tried to. Chris tightened his hold as Vin staggered, wondering if it was pain or the liquor. 

“Reckon you can keep me from sliding in the snow?” Vin said, and Chris could hear the amusement in his voice. 

“Let's hope,” he said. “Remind me not to send you along with Buck next time.”

“How about you don't send Buck along with me,” Vin countered, reaching out a hand to catch one of the saloon doors as they drew near. Ezra was holding it open, and Josiah, Nathan, and JD were standing outside, just at the end of the boardwalk. 

Chris and Vin stopped a few feet out the door, too, staring at the sight. The snow was still falling and it had covered the town in a thick layer of white. It was still possible make out the outline of the road, but the indentations of horses' hooves were slowly filling up, and few people were walking about. 

The clouds obscured the light of the moon and the stars, but light from windows and the few watchfires that were burning reflected on the snow, making it appear to glitter, and lighting the night with a soft pale glow that was surreal. 

“Don't see this real often,” Vin said softly, his voice gravelly. 

“Like a blessing,” Josiah murmured. 

“Reminds me of when I was a kid,” Nathan said, reaching out a hand to catch several drifting flakes. 

“We had snow every Christmas,” JD said. “Heck, it wasn't Christmas without it. Every Christmas, my ma would get me a new coat and the first thing I'd do Christmas afternoon was go outside and see how it stood up to the cold.”

“Indeed,” Ezra said, and like JD, and Nathan, and Josiah, and Vin, his voice was low and soft. “A new coat is a mother's finest gift.”

Chris turned to look at him, hearing something else in the way he said it. Ezra was staring out into the snow, but in the light of the saloon that was spilling out around them, Chris could see that Ezra was looking with a certain focus, through the snow and toward another light, farther away. 

Vin shifted, and Chris glanced to him, finding that he, too, was starring in the same direction that Ezra was. Like Ezra, Vin eyes were narrowed, as if he were seeing something particular. 

“Trouble?” he asked, worried that he was missing something, something that could be dangerous.

Vin blinked and turned to look at him, and at the same time, Chris was aware that Ezra, too, was looking toward him. 

“No, just a passing idea,” Vin said. “Reckon Ezra had it, too.”

“Indeed,” Ezra said, and Chris glanced at him, finding that Ezra was looking at Vin. “It does make sense,” he said. 

“'Spect so,” Vin agreed. “More than anything else I can come up with. You gonna run it to ground?”

“Run what to ground?” JD asked, cutting in, though he was still watching the snow. 

Ezra glanced to the younger man. “Our mysterious patron,” he said.

“You figured it out?” Nathan asked, looking over his shoulder. 

“Perhaps,” Ezra shrugged, his fur collar rising to his chin with the movement. He rubbed his chin against the fur slowly, a movement that Chris suspected he was not aware of. Chris could imagine how the fur felt, soft and cool, a slight tickle as it rubbed across Ezra's skin. 

“God bless whoever it is,” Josiah said, and with a shrug, he stepped off the boardwalk into the pristine snow, walking slowly toward the church. He left large footprints in the show, creating a path for the others. 

“Yep,” Nathan agreed, following along. 

“Let us know so we can thank 'em,” JD added, hurrying after the other two. Being shorter, he seemed to sink farther down into the snow as he moved along, his short stride leaving a smaller path. 

Vin shifted in Chris' hold, a sign that it was time to get him to bed. On Chris' other left, Ezra took a deep breath then he, too, stepped into the snow. 

“Happy Christmas,” he said, glancing back at Chris. 

Chris nodded, even as he turned to guide Vin down the covered boardwalk, walking carefully and slowly as much for Vin as for the splotches of ice that were impossible to see in the darkness. 

As they drew distant from the others, Chris said quietly, “You think you know who it is?” 

Vin was quiet for a time, then, as they stepped off the boardwalk into the alley that led to the boarding house, he said, “Reckon it's got to be somebody who works in one of the mercantiles, someone who sees us but who we don't always see. Someone who everyone knows but don't notice, if you get my meaning.” 

Chris frowned, thinking about it as they made their way through the snow. It required stepping high in places, and it wasn't long before the snow had eased past the top of his boots, melting against his pants and legs, and wetting his socks. It had been so long since he'd felt anything like this that it wasn't actually a bother, not yet. 

It was, after all, Christmas. One that reminded him of Christmas' long past, not ones out here in the desert. 

As they made their way up the stairs to the door of the boarding house, he said, “Not Gloria or George, then.” 

“Don't reckon,” Vin said through clenched teeth. He paused, taking a few seconds to breathe as Chris turned the knob on the door and pushed it inside. The gust of warmth that greeted them was a relief in contrast to the coldness outside. He helped Vin up the last step and into the foyer of the house.

“But someone who's in the stores a lot?” Chris said, easing Vin to lean against the wall, then closing the door behind them. The lights were turned low and he could hear their housekeeper above, talking low to someone. Probably getting ready to head to church. 

The house smelled of cinnamon and apples, and through the doorway into the parlor, he could see the fire in the fireplace was burning and beside it but at a distance was a tree dressed in shiny ribbons and a scattering of ornaments. For a second, his breath caught in his throat and his eyes clouded. The heat, he told himself, nothing more.

Vin was talking, his voice so low that it took Chris a few seconds to understand him. 

“. . . stores, maybe a local with little to do, but I'm thinking – and I reckon Ezra is, too – that it's someone who works in one of 'em.” He drew a deep breath before pushing off the wall. He stood, or tried to, but he swayed enough that Chris reached out to catch his arm. “Looks like they've been right busy here for the past day or so,” he said, looking into the parlor. “Mrs. Erdmann does like Christmas though. Hope she made them gingerbread cookies again this year.”

Chris frowned, looking at Vin. “She's done this before?”

Vin grinned, though it held enough pain to look like a grimace. “Reckon you was already out to your place last year. She and Nettie – who's probably upstairs with her now – get the young'uns to help 'em put this together. They'll be people traipsing through here all day tomorrow, singing songs and drinking some kinda tea and punch, and eating cookies and cake and the like. Mrs. Erdmann says that's the way it's done back where her folk came from, far away. Austria, I think she said.”

Chris looked back into the room, trying to see it for what it was and not for the memories. After a few seconds, it resolved into the parlor he was accustomed to, the one where he sometimes sat to read in the evening, when the light from the lamps and the fireplace were at their brightest, when most of the boarders – his men, mostly – were going about their own lives and the house was mostly empty. A familiar room decorated for Christmas. Without the gloss of memory, the tree wasn't as large, the decorations weren't as shiny or rich. 

But the spike of pain that had come with the first look ebbed to a mild discomfort that was overshadowed by that strange warmth that had been with him all evening. 

“You socialize here in the parlor last year?” Chris asked, looking back to Vin who was also still gazing into the room.

“Had a cup of punch and some of them gingerbread cookies,” Vin said. “Nettie wouldn't take no for an answer, and I always have liked them cookies. One of the few things I remember about Christmas when I was a boy.”

Chris looked at his friend and for the first time, he wondered what his friends did for Christmas. Not all of them – Buck had always been very vocal about his Christmas 'celebrations', and JD had done his fair share of talking about his ma and the festivities at the estate where she had worked and he had grown up. Nathan had talked some about his Christmases on the plantation, some of the few bright spots in what had been a horrible past. 

But he'd not heard Vin talk much about this time of year, nor Ezra. And Chris felt a twinge of discomfort. He'd spent the past few Christmas inside a bottle, hating the very idea of this day because it reminded him so much of what he'd lost. He hadn't thought about what others had lost. Or how they'd come to deal with the reminders of all that loss this time of year. 

It hit him them, like a bolt of lightning. “Daniel Potter.”

Vin turned to look at him, his eyebrows arched. He flashed a grin, though it was tight still. “What I suspect. Ezra, too.”

“Thanking us for – what? His daddy's still dead.” The idea of it made him a little sick. They hadn't been there in time to stop that killing, something that still nagged at him from time to time, mostly when he saw the boy and his sister. 

“We stopped the men who did it,” Vin said. “Reckon you of all people should understand what that means.”

Vin said the words lightly, still trying to smile, but Chris felt the truth in them, and a little spark of anger. Though he knew Vin wasn't actually chiding him. 

As he struggled to sort out his feelings, there were steps on the stairs, and voices, Mrs. Erdmann and Nettie Wells. They were laughing at something until they reached the floor and Nettie saw them. And saw Vin. 

“Vin Tanner! What have you done to yourself now?” she demanded, striding over quickly. 

“Ain't nothing, Nettie,” he said, but his face put the lie to his words as he grimaced when she caught hold of his shoulder. 

“It's your back, isn't it. What damned fool thing did you do – and this being Christmas!” 

“Wasn't all my fault,” Vin said defensively, but he didn't resist as she slid one of her arms around his waist and urged him toward the stairs. 

“I can get this, Nettie,” Chris called. 

Nettie waved a hand dismissively toward him as she said, “I'll put him to bed. Earlene, if you want to head on and make sure everything's in order at the church, I won't be long.”

Mrs. Erdmann was frowning, an expression that they all knew well, but she sighed and moved to the coat rack, pulling on a big winter coat that looked like it'd seen better days. Or better years. 

Chris reached out to take it from her, though, thinking of Ezra's fine coat. “Here, let me help,” he offered and he was rewarded with a blink and then a nod from the older woman. 

“Is Vin all right?” she asked, sliding her arms into the sleeves of the coat. She was dressed in a fine dress, one Chris suspected she had made just for this holiday. The special Christmas dress, a once-a-year excuse for getting something new. Chris' mother had had one, as had his sisters. As had Sarah. 

“His back's just giving him trouble,” he answered, trying not to think of Sarah. But this time, it didn't seem to be as painful as it usually was. “He'll be all right if he takes it easy for a time. And with this snow falling, and tomorrow being Christmas, I suspect he can rest up.”

“Good,” Mrs. Erdmann said, turning toward the door. “Will I see you at the Christmas service? You should come.”

Chris stood for a second, actually considering it. Sarah had always loved the Christmas service, the late one. It had also been his ma's favorite, late in the day after the chores were done, the one service she could get his pa to every year. He could remember the way his father gruffed and grumped, but he'd put on clean pants and a new shirt – his yearly gift from his wife. 

Like the black and white shirt Sarah had made for him that last Christmas together, to match the one she'd made Adam. He'd grumped when he'd had to put it on, but it was pretend. And he imagined, now, that his father's had been too. 

For an instant, he was almost tempted to go to Josiah's service. But even as he thought it, he knew better. He might not be feeling the pull of the bottle – at the moment, anyway – but no need to tempt that. “Best stay here,” he said, “in case Vin needs something.” 

“You're a good man, Mr. Larabee,” she said, reaching out to touch his arm. “We're blessed to have you and your friends here in town.” 

It really was the Christmas spirit, he thought, trying not to smirk. Instead, he turned to the parlor. “Want me to put a few more logs on the fire?”

She tilted her head then smiled. “It'd be nice to come back to a warm room, thank you.” She moved toward the door but as she did, she said, “I hope you'll join us tomorrow afternoon for our little Christmas party. Most of your men do. I made extra gingerbread this year for them, Vin and Mr. Standish especially. They seem so happy to have it, and I know it's hard for them, this time of year.” 

He looked at her, and for the first time, he saw something other than the stiff-backed, grey-haired shrew with a list of rules and a time schedule for food and dirty bed linens and curfews. He knew it wasn't fair, never had been fair, but they had joked many a time about the rules and regulations Mrs. Erdmannn put on them. It was a big part of why Ezra lived at the hotel, paying the difference between a room here and a room there out of his pocket. He simply could not abide a curfew. 

Yet here she was, worried about Vin and Ezra, understanding that this time of year meant more to them than he had realized. 

And it made sense now that they would understand Daniel Potter. That they would see what that the boy was probably thanking them in the only way he knew how – for doing their jobs. But also, as Vin had suggested, for bringing him some sort of peace. 

She was almost out the door before he realized that he owed her something, at the very least, an acknowledgment for her words. Because it was possible, and perhaps, from her, even probable, that she was sincere. 

“Thank you,” he said to her back as she stepped carefully down the stairs. “Would you like for me to - “

She waved a hand, not looking back. “Keep that fire going, Mr. Larabee. I've walked in more than my fair share of snow in my life.” He heard the undertone of her accent then, an accent he didn't notice anymore, one that had been worn down by living here, among these folk. She had come here from somewhere back east, somewhere she had lived for decades before Mr. Erdmannn had brought her here, about a decade ago, then had the poor grace to die on her. 

Like many of the women here. 

He thought again about his ma as he watched Mrs. Erdmannn's stocky body defy the weather. She made it down the stairs easily enough and she was careful but determined as she made her way into the snow-covered street. There were others out now, many carrying candles and lamps and talking as they made their way slowly toward the church. The snow seemed to fall lighter now, the flakes larger, clinging to coats, hats, and hair of the people walking. Josiah and the others had lit the lights of the church, the light bright and cheerful at the end of the street, and he thought once more about joining them. 

But he turned back into the house after he was sure she was well on her way, closing the door carefully behind himself and moving into the parlor where he stirred the fire, keeping the embers alight. 

The wood was stacked on the back porch and he made several trips to the pile, replenishing the stands on the corners of the hearth and reviving the fire though not so much that it would be a waste of heat. It was as he stood before it, his coat and hat discarded on the coat rack by the door, that he heard the sounds of booted feet on the stairwell. He turned as Nettie Wells turned past the stairs and stood in the doorway to the parlor. 

“You get him settled?” he asked, referring to Vin. 

Nettie nodded, glancing to the fire. “That boy – I swear, Chris, he doesn't have enough sense to come in out of the – snow, as it were. I'd worry for him if he were mine.”

Despite himself, Chris grinned. Vin was as much Nettie's as Casey was. “Well,” he said, “he does have a stubborn streak. But he seems to know himself pretty well.”

“You keep an ear out tonight,” she said, shaking her head and turning toward the door. “I'll be back with Earlene for the night, so if he needs anything, you let me know. He's gonna have one hell of a time getting out of bed in the morning, but he insisted on sleeping in his pants, with his boots close by.”

“Thanks, Nettie,” Chris responded, walking behind her. It was as he was helping her with her coat that the question came out, so easy and so clear that for a few seconds, he thought someone else had asked it, until the echo of his voice caught in his ears. “Vin ever talk about Christmas?”

Nettie pulled her coat around her, settling it on her shoulders. She moved slowly, her head down, and Chris thought maybe she hadn't heard him. But as she put her hand on the doorknob, she turned and looked at him. “I suspect you know about the same as I do about his past. And I don't feel right talking behind his back – injured as it is, at the moment.”

Chris nodded, feeling foolish for having asked. It was none of his business – how many times had he told Buck not to be telling tales about him? 

“But I can tell you this,” she said, staring directly into Chris' eyes. “It's not an easy time of the year for him. He's got a lot of memories of it, like most of us do, I guess, and nothing is ever going to match up to those memories. He makes do, though. He appreciates what he has, and it's a pleasure to be able to offer him anything, because he values it dearly.” She arched one eyebrow, and even though she didn't say it, Chris could hear the unspoken words: 'unlike others who thrive in their misery.' 

He nodded. “I'll listen out for him. Enjoy your service. I'll bank the fire before I go up.” He started to turn back, but as he did, she held out a hand and touched his sleeve. 

“It's good that you're here today,” she said quietly. “For all of us. The town. We don't say it enough, I warrant, but the seven of you have been a God-send.”

Chris frowned, thinking it through. “You didn't give us the presents, but Vin told you about them.”

She smiled. “He asked, but no, I didn't. Not that I wouldn't have, if I'd had the money. Aren't many people in this town who could do that for all seven of you, I suspect. And even then, I think it would have taken a lot of planning and saving. I'd looked at those under garments myself, thinking to get them for Vin. He'll have to make do with a shirt I made this year, but I know he'll be pleased enough. Rest of you will have your usual.”

He smiled, remembering the fresh bread and jam from last year. There'd been pie and cookies, too, but he'd given his to Nathan, who had a love of them, and who would take them to the village, an excuse to go a second time in a week. “And we'll thank you for them,” he said. 

“Well, I'd best be on my way, don't want to come in late. Josiah does do a good job with his Christmas sermon. No fire and brimstone in him at Christmas.” She pulled the door open and stepped out onto the little porch. Chris opened his mouth to ask her if she'd like him to walk with her, but before the first word formed, she called out, “Cassie! Come here, girl, and give me a hand.”

She pulled the door closed behind her, but Chris could hear them talking as Casey came up to help Nettie, and then Mary's voice hailing Nettie from the roadway, and Billy's excited calls. There were other voices too, now, outside, most of them laughing and calling, the snow as exciting as the fact that it was Christmas Eve. 

Chris turned back to the fire, poking and prodding it as it grew, and thinking about what Nettie had said. Thinking about Vin and Christmas, and Ezra and Christmas, and all the things he hadn't thought about in the past few years when this time of year rolled around. 

Thinking about the possibility that a boy who had lost his father so recently was willing to give them all presents, nice ones, and ones that he had known they would like. 

A boy very much like the boys Vin and Ezra had been so long ago. 

It wasn't a real stretch, when he considered, to see how Ezra and Vin had both arrived at this thought. Buck probably would have, too, if he'd given it a little more time. Maybe JD. 

He was still musing and tending the fire when someone knocked lightly on the door. Then the knob turned and rush of cool air followed the opening of the door.

“Hello?” Chris turned, instinctively dropping one hand to the handle of his revolver while holding the poker in the other. 

“I see you are still up,” Ezra said, closing the door behind him with a soft thud. He stepped to the doorway of the parlor and nodded. “I thought I would check in on Vin.” He didn't take off his coat, which was flecked with snow that glistened brightly against the dark wool and the darker fur collar. 

“Reckon he's sleeping,” Chris said, relaxing. “Nettie put him to bed before she left and I haven't heard anything from him since.”

Ezra nodded, stepping further into the room, closer to the fire. “Not a pleasant way to spend the holiday,” he said, holding out his hands. 

“Reckon not,” Chris agreed. “Hopefully a night on his back will help sort it out. You find out anything?”

Ezra smiled then, but it was a smile Chris had rarely seen. There was a sadness in it, and an innocence that was unfamiliar on Ezra's face. “I believe that Vin and I made the correct surmise. Mr. Daniel Potter is a very generous young man.”

Chris took a long breath, both pleased but saddened. “Can't imagine that Gloria would take too kindly to him stealing from her.”

“Oh, no, sir, I don't believe that to be the case, no, not at all.” The vehemence of Ezra's response was as surprising as the expressions so recently on his face. “Daniel is most certainly not the type to rob his own mother.” 

Chris frowned. As a boy, he'd barely had a penny to his name at any given time, much less the money to buy presents of the magnitude of what Daniel had purchased for them. 

“No,” Ezra went on, as if knowing Chris' thoughts, “I suspect that his mother had some knowledge of his plan, if not an actual hand in it. Bear in mind, as an employee of the store, he would get a discount on his purchases. And I know for fact that Gloria does pay him for his work.” 

Chris turned and looked at him. “You aren't teaching him to gamble, are you?” 

Ezra blinked, his face twisting in a combination of anger and surprise. “Of course not,” he said sharply. Then, getting control of himself, he went on, “Not that I think it's a bad skill to know, especially for boys out here, caring for their families.” He turned back to the fire. “But Gloria would not appreciate the skill of it, and I don't wish to alienate one of the essential business people of this small town.”

Chris didn't smile, but it was a close thing. Instead, he said, “So he's been saving his money all year for this? I hope he didn't spend it all on us. Gloria deserves his attention.”

Ezra shifted, his shoulders relaxing a little. “I have no doubt but that he has. He cares very much for his mother, especially now that his father is no longer with them. He's a very responsible young man, as I suspect you have noticed.” 

Chris had, but that wasn't the thought that was uppermost in his mind. The thought that was uppermost was that Ezra sounded sincere and a little wistful. 

It wasn't his place to ask, he reminded himself, but even as he thought it, he recalled his own questions from earlier, his thoughts about the childhoods of his friends, especially Ezra and Vin. Two men who had grown up without fathers, and for the most part, without mothers. 

Without winter coats. 

He looked at Ezra, who had unbuttoned his nice, thick coat, but he hadn't taken it off. “Daniel get a coat for Christmas?” he asked.

Ezra arched an eyebrow but he didn't turn to look at Chris as he answered. “I believe he may have, though I can't be certain. We didn't discuss it. In fact, we didn't discuss very much. I commented that someone had been very generous to the seven of us but that there was no name on the gifts so we didn't know who to thank. He pretended confusion, but he is not a good liar. And he was in a church; for those who take their faith seriously, that is a very bad place to be untruthful. So I am confident that he is our patron.” 

“Then we must thank him,” Chris said, poking once more at the fire. 

“Oh, no, sir, we must not,” Ezra countered quickly. “His pleasure is in giving secretly.”

Chris frowned, not sure he had understood correctly. “He spent all that money and trouble and he doesn't want us to thank him?”

Ezra hesitated, staring into the fire and rubbing his chin against the soft fur of his collar. Chris realized that he was searching for the right way to express what he was thinking, and the idea that Ezra was using this much care – that he was actually considering what he wanted to say – gave him pause. 

Ezra was never at a loss for words – or at a loss for how to use words as he needed them. Something in this, then, was different. Something in this was . . . personal. 

It was the coat. Not the actual coat, but the idea of the coat. Chris recalled what Ezra had said earlier, about mothers and coats and Christmas. 

“You should understand better than I, I think, that there is a pleasure in the simple act of giving.” The words were soft and low, and slow, as if it were a struggle to get them out.

Chris thought about his answer, taking the time to add another log to the fire. As he prodded it, watching it smolder and then eventually catch the flames, he said, “Reckon there is. But there's also pleasure in hearing that someone likes what you did for them. I suspect you know that, too.”

Ezra turned slowly to look at him . His green eyes seemed to flame with the firelight. “There can be, yes, indeed. But there can also be the disappointment when someone doesn't like what you have done. And often, not hearing that disappointment is equal to the thrill of giving.” 

The idea of that sort of ingratitude, that sort of ingratitude to a child . . . 

“On reconsideration,” Ezra said slowly, now looking back into the fire, “perhaps you are correct. Young Daniel might like to know that we appreciate what he has done – as I believe we all do?”

There was a note of uncertainty in his voice and Chris shook his head. “Of course we do. What's wrong with you?” Though even as the words left his mouth, he knew. And it explained far more than he wanted to think about. He went on quickly, trying to take some of the sting out of his words even as he also tried to put away the image of Ezra as boy, his gifts to his mother spurned. Perhaps it was that thought that drove the next words out of his mouth, words that came from thoughts that had been lurking in the back of his mind for the past few weeks, just behind the memory of his happiest Christmases. 

“My mother raised us to understand how much effort goes into the giving of a gift, especially in a community where everyone works to survive. For anyone to go to that trouble alone, figuring out what we each want, much less to find a way to pay for it, then to leave it and not take credit – that's more than deserving of a thank-you.” 

Ezra nodded. “I shall leave you, then, to do so. I believe I will find my way back to the saloon and see about supplementing my own holiday allowance.” He shrugged, settling the coat more firmly around his shoulders then started to button it back up. 

“You got any ideas on a way to say thank you?” Chris asked. 

Ezra didn't look at him, but he frowned as if in concentration. After a time, he said, “Perhaps one of us should speak with Gloria. She may have an idea that would be appreciated yet not embarrassing.”

Chris found himself amused, both at Ezra's particular choice of words – 'appreciated yet not embarrassing' – and at the idea that Ezra would consider such, in reference to a child. 

“This sounds like it calls for some degree of subtlety,” he said after some consideration. “So I think I'll leave it to you.” It was a combination of flattery and command, one of the things that Chris had learned early with Ezra. It brought the most success. 

Ezra turned then, his hands on the button at his collar. He looked at Chris with suspicion and some disbelief. The command, the suggestion of an order, he could resist, but the flattery – well, that was another story. And one that was related, Chris realized, to the giving of gifts, and the lack of appreciation for them. 

“You can do it,” Chris said as Ezra opened his mouth to speak. “I have faith in you. Just let me know when you have a plan.” 

Ezra blinked, staring at him. It was almost better than the flattery. It was also true. In this instance, because of all they had discussed tonight, Chris trusted Ezra completely to figure out what they needed to do. 

It was an odd realization. He didn't trust many and even for those he did, it had to do with specific things. But that was where he found himself now, thinking of Ezra: in this thing, this area of gifts and young people and this strange town, he trusted Ezra to find the way to let Daniel know that they, the seven of them, barely accepted by 'civilized society', appreciated what Daniel had done and what he had sacrificed to do it. 

And they all understood what it was like to be young and to feel alone. 

Ezra drew in a breath, opened his mouth, and his lips moved as if he were trying to say something. 

Once more, Chris cut him off. “You wait much longer and church will be over and the saloon will be closing. Best get on, Ezra. Let me know when you have a plan.”

He put his hands on Ezra's shoulder, nudging him toward the door. There was some initial resistance, and Ezra made a few grunts and noises, still trying to find words, but when after a few steps, he sighed, straightened his shoulders, and said a weary, “Happy Christmas, to you as well.”

Chris found himself smiling as he turned back to add a few more logs to the fire before banking it. It would keep the room nicely warm for the ladies, when they returned. As for himself, he was off to bed, recalling as he made his way up the stairs that the bottle was in his saddlebags which were still in the livery.

As he settled into bed, pulling the bedclothes up tight against his chin in the cold room, he thought about all he had learned tonight, about his friends, their pasts, and who they were. None of it was a surprise, more a confirmation of what he had known already but never put into perspective. 

His last thoughts, though, were of Sarah and Adam. He missed them, but tonight, he thought of how it would have been different if they had survived without him. Sarah would never have been Maude, he had no doubts about that. But what if she, too, had died, leaving Adam to be raised by his mother or her father? Or worse, to be raised by strangers? 

What kind of man would Adam have become? 

It was a strange thought to have on a Christmas Eve, and it scared and hurt to think on it. But there was a sense of comfort, too, from the fact that he and his friends had made some impression on a young man who had lost his pa. How to thank Daniel was a conundrum, and it was that riddle that tagged along as he passed into sleep. 

It was Vin, though, the next morning, who came up with the idea, simple and direct like the man himself. Red eyed and grim, his hair sticking out around his face, he struggled into his boots. He muttered under his breath some things that sounded like curses but not in a language Chris knew. To distract him, Chris told him about the discussion with Ezra. Struggling into his coat in the cold bedroom, Vin managed to slip some words through his gritted teeth. 

“Seems it'd be best to give him what he can most use at his age: lessons in how to do things. When I was his age – well, about them, I reckon – I wished I had my pa around to teach me how ride and shoot and hunt. Since there weren't no way that was gonna happen, I wished I had someone else to show me those things. Reckon that's what every boy wants, don't you think?”

He wasn't looking at Chris, too busy trying to walk across the room to the door. But then, maybe, Chris thought, that was intentional too. 

“Yeah,” he said, recalling his own boyhood, time spent with his father and his brothers, working on the farm. Some of it he'd resented – the day to day chores that they'd all hated to do but that had to be done to keep the farm running. But there were other things, too, that had been part of growing up with his father. 

Something that he'd had the chance to do. Something that he'd planned on Adam doing. 

The pain was sharp, but after it, there was a warmth, for the memory this time wasn't just of his boy, but of the boy he'd been himself. 

“Be getting warm in a couple of months,” he said slowly. “Could teach him to fish, provided Gloria will let him out of the shop.” He followed along as Vin opened the door and eased out into the hallway. 

“Spect she will,” Vin said, his tone still carrying some pain. “Figured I might see if he wants to learn to hunt.”

“That might not sit too well with Gloria,” Chris said, thinking about it. “But it won't hurt to ask.” 

“Yep,” Vin said, making it to the stairwell and looking down. “Looks like Christmas done started without us.”

Below, Chris could hear voices, some talking, some laughing, some singing. Sounded like the house was full of people, though he knew the real gatherings wouldn't start until the afternoon. 

“Mr. Vin!” a voice called from below, and Chris recognized it as that of the very one they were talking about, Daniel Potter. “I heard you was ailing! Can I help?”

Vin turned his head, glancing over his shoulder at Chris. There was faint grin on his face, over the clench of his teeth. “Maybe so,” he called back. “Wanna come up here and give me a hand getting down the stairs?”

Chris watched, amused, and realized that this, maybe, was the spirit of Christmas that he could live with. At least for a while. 

“You coming, Mr. Larabee?” Daniel called as he took Vin's arm, helping to balance him on the stairs. “Won't be Christmas without you.”

“Right behind you,” he said. “Thank you.”

Daniel glanced back and nodded. Then he turned his attention back to Vin, and Chris followed them down and into the holiday.


End file.
